


Confessions alongside a Sugar Cookie

by unevenstar



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Café, Fluffy, Human AU, M/M, Rarepair, Written upon request, aph rarepairs, short fic, teen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unevenstar/pseuds/unevenstar
Summary: Vasile and Sigurd spend time at a cafe, Sigurd unknowing of what Vasile unwillingly has in store for him.
Relationships: Norway/Romania (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Romania is Vasile and Norway is Sigurd.)

To Vasile, Sigurd is the most beautiful boy he’s ever seen in his life, with cheekbones that could cut him and blue eyes that could toss him under the waves. He doesn’t want to get started with his lean, toned body that Vasile imagines against his-

“Fuck!” With a tired scowl, Vasile clasps his hands together and prays to any god in the sky that’s willing to listen. “Not now. Not now.”

“What?” 

Sigurd tilts his head lazily, unfazed by his friend’s outburst. But Vasile looks closer, watching Sigurd study him almost worriedly. He panics and squeezes his fists underneath the table. Today, they’re just friends - hanging out at a cafe. Today, it’s the two of them as separate beings, not as one. 

However, the feelings don’t stop there. Sigurd threatens to spill over the pot of boiling water Vasile has smothered for so long, more so than ever before. So he takes a little sip of his tea and looks out the window. 

“You haven’t responded to my question.” Sigurd, with a soft quirk of a smile, leans back in his chair. “You’ve been kind of _not like other girls_ recently.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Vasile replies hastily. “I think I’m just fine. Look at me!” 

People in the other seats turn their heads a little bit, side-eying him. With a defeated sigh, Vasile lowers his voice and slumps into his hands. Avoiding Sigurd’s stare. He who only leans forward. “Vasile, if you wanna talk, just tell me. Seriously. You worry me.” 

Vasile’s heart starts racing and he feels the heat of embarrassment run rampant through his blood. Simply, it’s not like he _can’t_ tell Sigurd. Maybe he wouldn’t mind, maybe would just reject him politely and they could still be friends-

 _What are you doing?_ Vasile swallows: he can’t respond to even himself. Sigurd basks in the silence, chewing at his lip as he does when he’s nervous. The taller boy rises from his seat. “I’ll get us a pastry. Maybe that’ll make you feel better.”

“T-Thanks,” Vasile squeaks, and he downs the rest of the drink. He hates other people paying for his food (it’s in his DNA to stop them), but this time he lets it slip. He lets it slip for Sigurd, that stupid _hot_ Norwegian - and admitting that makes him undoubtedly feel better. So with a deep breath, he watches Sigurd return. He passes him a warm cookie, and Vasile smiles as he takes it. In his hands the cookie is soft, smelling like vanilla and sugar. In his mouth, it melts and tastes equally as sweet, rich, and fulfilling. Vasile and Sigurd eat in silence for a few moments before they make eye contact. 

“Can I...Can I ask you a question?” Finally has Vasile’s voice lowered to a whisper for just the two of them to hear. Sigurd, attentive as ever, nods.

Vasile fumbles with his hands and swings his legs under the stool. “Would you mind...if…”

He lets out a frustrated hiss and buries his face in his hands. Sigurd, as if, knowing, places a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Take your time.”

_“Would you mind if I liked you?”_

Feeling the prick of burning tears in his eyes, Vasile wipes them with his sleeve. Still not looking at Sigurd, who hasn’t moved, Vasile pulls his jacket on and takes out his phone, ready to call an Uber to take him home where he can be a mess. Alone. Without pretty boys whose names begin with an S. 

Sigurd says nothing, his hand having fallen off Vasile’s shoulder by now. It is like he has been frozen in time.

Vasile stands up, pushes his chair in. Brushes a strand of auburn hair out of his face. Yet as he turns away, Sigurd grabs his sleeve and pulls him back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Sigurd's point of view, we see in a new light. Also, this song by Winona Oak may help to set the mood: https://open.spotify.com/track/0HT2pC2Wcl2GGyDTcCWpLU?si=8hBBRScrRTuy8tvmYcOB3w 

_“D-Don’t go.”_

It’s not an order or a command, but rather a simple request. Vasile, frozen, doesn’t move an inch.

“I...need to explain myself.”

Vasile swallows and sits back down, his eyes are an overflowing well of tears ready to tip over. Wincing at the sight, Sigurd realizes his love for dragging things became a painful torture and continues to do so at his fingertips. He lets go of the Romanian boy’s sleeve and watches his hand flops limply back to his side. 

“Please listen to me.”

 _Weak and pathetic._ Sigurd bites his lip, knowing his loss of proper word sent Vasile down into an endless rabbit hole of regret. Trying again, Sigurd reaches for the latter’s cheek to pull his gaze home. Understanding he’s horrible with words and worse with emotions, he would rather show than tell in any given scenario. But now he has to be quick. He has to be quick to save this friendship and maybe bring in something more. 

Vasile sits down begrudgingly. Sigurd’s heart leaps into his throat; recognizing their now or never.

“I like you, Vasile. I don’t know what to do with it. Please help me with...me.”

In a sudden burst of fear and confusion (and somehow, hope), Vasile shakes his head. “What are you _saying,_ Sigurd?”

Like spotting a shooting star, something snaps in Sigurd and he finds his words. “Can I help myself? Can I help myself with you?”

A silence as Vasile puzzles to comprehend.

As of now, Sigurd isn’t the best kisser. He’s only done it a few times yet he hopes today, he can deliver. So he has Vasile by the collar with one hand, drawing him in in a quick motion as their lips connect. Vasile’s, oh so soft. Sigurd hears and feels a gasp of surprise in the kiss. Right after, there is moisture trickling down onto the back of Sigurd’s hand clutching Vasile’s cheek. They let each other go.

Sigurd is greeted with arms, wide open. They become a hug, squeezing the life out of him. There’s laughter on Sigurd’s chest, muffled and so relieved. He wants to listen to it again and again, beside him and onto their second kiss. This one is different, less gentle and withheld. Vasile leans into it, slowly, as he runs a hand through Sigurd’s hair while Sigurd sits at the edge of the seat, closing the space in between them. Yet no matter where he places his hands, Sigurd is shy when he opens his eyes to find that Vasile’s are closed shut, his eyelashes still dewed with tears. In their little tangle, moments of answered longing pass on; air between them runs short and Vasile pulls apart with a sharp inhale. Then, more radiant smiles enter Sigurd’s world. Soft hair brushes up against the crook of his neck as Vasile finds a spot to rest from their whirling kiss. Hands wind around Sigurd’s back, securing themselves.

“So,” Vasile murmurs into Sigurd’s chest. “I’ll take it as...you don’t mind me liking you at all.”

“No. Not at all,” Sigurd replies with a grin. “I think I’ll continue to not worry anymore. Especially not about you.”

Feeling a kiss on his torso, Sigurd nudges Vasile up. “Let’s go. People are staring.”

With a lazy frown, Vasile agrees. “There are better places to continue anyway.”

  
  



End file.
